


Unbalanced

by GinnyK



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s05e07 Separation of Powers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-05-31 04:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15111635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinnyK/pseuds/GinnyK
Summary: J/D Post Ep toSeparation of Powers





	Unbalanced

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

"Josh, answer the damn phone," Donna's voice echoes through my living room and my pounding head. Her words also drift up from my front steps and in through window I just cracked open. She sounds annoyed but I know under that annoyed tone she's worried about me. I left pretty quickly after she got back from the budget meeting. I let her give me bullet points and that was about it. I couldn't sit and listen to a blow by blow description of a meeting I should have been in. A meeting we should have been in together. So I muttered something about not feeling well...which wasn't a lie...and I headed home. 

"What?" I snort into the phone. I'm trying to sound indifferent and annoyed but ending up sneezing. 

"Bless you. What are you doing?" 

"Talking on the phone," I mutter as I haul myself off the couch in search of another box of tissues. 

"Before that," she sighs. 

"Uh, contemplating the possibility that my head will just explode," I mutter as I look out my front window and see her sitting on the steps. 

"Josh." Again with the worried tone. 

"I'm fine." She doesn't respond to that. Probably because she knows I'm not. 

"Josh are we ok?" she asks with a sigh. I honestly don't know how to answer that. Things are changing at a tremendous pace these last few days. I'm falling off the radar and Donna's right on the center of the radar, blipping away. The strange sense of balance we've worked so hard to maintain has been thrown off. It's unsteady, kind of like me at the moment, damn head cold. "Josh...are you still there?" 

Crap, kind of zoned out for a minute there. 

"Yeah. I'm just tired and drugged." 

"So are we ok?" 

I decide to go for honest. "I don't know. I was just....everything just happened so fast today. I just wasn't ready to let you go." 

"Having trouble cutting the cord?" she teases. 

"Something like that. So are you going to come in?" 

"Huh?" 

"I'm standing at the window. I can see you sitting on my front steps." 

Donna laughs as she stands up and picks up her bag. I buzz her in as I head to put some water on for tea. 

"You weren't ready to let me go?" she asks as she comes through the door, dropping her tote bag on the bench and kicking off her shoes. I should have known she'd dwell on that comment. 

"I really don't know what I mean," I mutter as I hop up to sit on the counter. "I'm tired, drugged..." 

"You already said that," Donna points out as she grabs the mugs out of the dish drainer. "In addition to tired and drugged you are pissed, depressed and wondering what the hell happened today." She has an uncanny knack for completing my thoughts, even when I'm not always sure what I'm thinking. I don't deny her statement; instead I drop my head, suddenly find the pattern on my tile floor fascinating. Donna moves to stand in front of me. She braces her hands on either side of me, leans forward and rests her forehead against the top of my head. I wait for her to kiss the top of my head like she usually does...but she doesn't. "Can we talk? I mean really talk," she asks as she stands up and tips my chin up to look me in the eye. 

"Yeah, we can. I don't know that I'll make a whole lot of sense, but I'll try," I answer honestly as I slide off the counter and take the mug of tea she's holding out for me. We settle down on opposite ends of the couch, a rare occasion for us. 

"Did you offer to loan me to Angela?" 

"Huh?" 

"Was it your idea?" 

"No, not at all." 

"She got your name from someone at the OEOB. You were recommended to her," I explain. "You should be happy, you got to do something today," I mutter more bitterly than I had intended. 

"Josh," she says, warning me that she is not going to sit by while I throw myself a pity party. 

"Sorry. Yes, I was jealous that you got to go the budget meetings. I was pissed about what happened with tuition. I was pissed about the comment that made it seem like you thought the budget problems were my fault. I feel left out, stepped on and my whole world is just...just unbalanced." 

"What about us?" 

"What do you mean?" I honestly have no idea where she's going with this. 

"Are we unbalanced?" she asks as she pulls the afghan off the back of the couch and covers herself up with it. She doesn't offer me the other end. 

"Yeah," I mutter as I reach for my tea. "You're getting more responsibility. And don't me wrong, you deserve it, you really do but...." 

"But part of my newfound responsibilities are coming at your expense?" I can only nod as I yawn. "Would it help to know that I feel a little guilty about that?" 

"Yeah, I think so." 

"Josh this is what I've been waiting for, for a long time. It's not the way I envisioned things and I wish it could have been different." 

"But it was supposed to be me." 

"What was supposed to be you?" 

"The person who recommended you for something, the person who moved you in the direction of bigger and better things. I wanted that to be me." 

"And I had my doubts that was ever going to happen," she mutters as she gets up and starts to pace. Which of course is usually my job. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, suddenly jolted out of the semi-drug induced haze I had been in. 

"You've been giving me more responsibilities lately but...but it seemed....it seemed like although you'd like to give me more, you'd never recommend me for another position. That you like having me around and don't want me to leave you." 

"That's not true. I mean, yes it's true, I like having you around. But I'm not holding you back." 

"I know. For the first time I saw that today. When you pushed me back in the Roosevelt Room." 

"I was trying to be supportive," I explain as I reach for the afghan. 

"I know. And I know that was a big deal for you. Everything's just so...." 

"Unbalanced." 

"Yeah," she whispers as she sits back down on the couch. I tentatively hold up the end of the afghan for her and she scoots down the length of the couch to curl up next to me. "Josh, someday I am going to move on, you need to face that fact. Whether I get promoted, leave the White House or get fired there will come a time when I won't have to see you day," she points out, the teasing evident in her voice as she pokes me in the shoulder for emphasis. 

"Well, I try not to think about that day. But maybe I'll find an assistant who will bring me coffee without me asking." 

"Hey, I've been bringing you coffee everyday since your birthday." Again with the poking. 

"That's just cause you're worried I'm going to get fired." 

"Nah, I'm over that. I'm done kicking dirt on your grave too." 

"Thanks," I mumble as I reach for another tissue. I blow my nose and try to pop my ears again. Donna watches with amusement, eventually reaching out to feel my forehead. 

"You're pretty warm. You ready for more Advil?" I glance at her watch and shake my head. 

"You want more juice?" she asks as she points to my empty glass. 

"Yeah, thanks," I whisper as I pull the afghan up a little higher. Donna comes back a few minutes later with more juice and a cool, damp cloth. She hesitates for a few seconds and finally motions for me to move so she can sit in the corner of the couch. I settle down with my head in her lap and she puts the cloth on my forehead. 

"We've certainly been unbalanced before. What makes this time different?" I ask as I hand the glass back to her. 

"It's professional this time. Every other time we've been off it's been because of something in our personal lives. Amy, Cliff, Jack. But we still had our work roles. You're the boss and I'm the assistant. Granted our view of the professional roles is a little unconventional but it works for us. These past few days our lives have been turned upside down. So much has happened. We're just not sure how to handle things, how to act with each other. I don't know if I'm explaining this very well," she says with a sigh as she runs her fingers through my hair. 

"You're doing just fine," I assure her with a smile. 

"I don't know," she sighs as her cell phone rings. I sit up a little to let her off the couch. It's pretty clear that it's Angela on the phone. Donna looks like she wants to hang up. 

"Talk to her," I mouth as I flick on the television. Donna wanders around, pacing and talking, much like I usually do. She checks on me a few times. The medicine's starting to make me a little fuzzy and I'm getting really tired. I don't want a blow by blow description of the phone conversation with Angela so maybe letting myself drift off would be a good idea. I truly lack the ambition to haul myself off the couch and get into bed. 

When Donna checks on me again, she tosses the quilt from the end of my bed over me and turns off the television. A few minutes later she hangs up and sits on the edge of the couch. She thinks I'm asleep and I don't let her know otherwise. 

"Joshua, Josh, Josh," she whispers as she tucks the quilt around me. "You need to stop scaring me, a girl can only take so much. Don't worry, we'll find the balance, together." 

Donna leans over and kisses me softly and I can't help but kiss her back. She pulls away, embarrassed as she clearly thought I was asleep. "That didn't help the whole balance thing," I smirk as she stands up to leave. 

"Live with it. I'll call you in the morning." And with that she heads for the door. 

THE END 


End file.
